Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Theo
The courthouse was brightly lit, which made me feel ridiculous for being so afraid to come on this tour alone.
It would have been fine. But speaking of fine, having Hamish by my side was no hardship.
Most of the people on the walking tour weren’t local, or didn’t watch the news, or didn’t care that a local weatherman was on the same walking tour as them because they didn’t even glance in our direction.
I wasn’t here for the stories, though. I was here for the history. I’d always loved old buildings and, sure, the ghost stories were entertaining, but I wasn’t convinced they were real. The stories were real, the bits about hauntings were an embellishment meant to help sell tickets.
“They don’t make things like this anymore,” Hamish whispered in my ear, running his hand over the banister that separated where the spectators would sit from the front of the court.
The rest of the group was closer to the bench where the judge would have sat.
Casper must have been able to recite this tour in their sleep, but even so, they still seemed enthusiastic about telling the stories to a fresh crowd.
My gaze roamed the room as I half listened to them talk about the judge who had been killed during a trial and the chaos that had been caused in the aftermath.
And then Casper caught my gaze and held it as they told the story of who really haunted the court. That it wasn’t the judge, but the innocent bystander killed in the chaos afterward.
“Hank McBride was barely twenty, and he was set to get married to his sweetheart soon. But his cousin had ended up in trouble with the law. Hank wanted to vouch for his cousin, of course, and serve as a character witness for the accused. But when the judge was killed, all hell broke loose, and Hank was killed in the fray.”
Was it colder in here, or was it just me? I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around myself, not wanting to show my vulnerability. My fear, which felt like cowardice. Hamish settled a hand on my shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze.
“Hank wanders the courthouse every night, rattling doors and windows, trying to get out and get back to his sweetheart.”
“Poor guy,” Hamish said, sliding a little closer to me. “Must be hell being trapped like that.”
It would be if it were true.
“Yeah. But look at the construction of this room. The craftsmanship is out of this world.”
The judge’s bench was decorated with wooden inlays, something that must have taken hours. Months.
“Our next stop is the attached jailhouse,” Casper said, ushering us out the door near the back of the room where they brought prisoners in. “Where the ghosts aren’t as friendly as good old Hank.”
When Hamish ushered me through the door with a hand on my lower back, then slid it expertly around me, I didn’t mind. In fact, I burrowed closer, seeking warmth. If I’d known the tour wasn’t going to be heated, I’d have worn a warmer sweater.
Though the jail was also well lit, it gave me the heebie-jeebies. A row of cells lined one wall, all of them standing open except the last one, which was where Casper had us gather for the next part of the tour.
“This cell last held a man named Jack Cullen. He was a notorious thief. Pickpocket. Bank robber. Train robber. If it could be stolen, Jack would steal it. Jack Cullen was slated to be executed and when they dragged him out of his cell, it swung shut, locking. And it hasn’t been able to be opened since.
They tried breaking the lock, but that didn’t work.
” Casper pointed to a spot on the cage bars that clearly displayed numerous scratches.
“They tried to cut the lock off, but nothing could cut the bars. They say Jack hid a treasure in his cell, and that it’s his ghost that keeps people from being able to access the cell. ”
“Why don’t they just take the door off now?” someone asked. “We have better tools than they did back then.”
“The last person who tried suffered a massive stroke. He was fine one minute and gone the next. Jack takes his treasure very seriously.”
“How’d he get something in the cell anyway?” Someone else asked Casper. “Didn’t they search him?”
Casper smirked. “I don’t think cavity searches were as popular back then as they are in our airports nowadays.
” They wandered over to the back door of the jailhouse and used a set of keys to open it up.
“The next stop on tour is the old saloon. It used to be a bed and breakfast, but too many hauntings affected the bookings, and it shut down. They’ve tried to revive it a few times, but it never stays open for long. ”
Once everyone was out of the jailhouse, I turned to look in time to see the lights in the windows go out.
There must have been someone else in there with us, another employee of the tour whose job it was to close up behind us.
That was the reasonable explanation. The alternative had me pressing myself against Hamish’s side.
The weird thing was that being closer to Hamish did make me feel safer. It wasn’t like he could protect me from darkness or ghosts. One wasn’t something anyone could fight, and the other didn’t exist. But it felt like maybe, if it were possible, he could do it.
“I’d have liked to try and open that door,” Hamish said.
“Me too,” I agreed. “I mean, so far the ghosts are pretty tame. One tries to open doors, and the other won’t let you.”
“There are worse ways to be haunted,” Hamish said as we made our way up the street to the saloon.
On the way, Casper pointed out historical facts about the street and some of the events that had taken place there.
The streetlights kept the encroaching darkness away, but my eyes still darted to the shadows.
To the places where the light couldn’t reach.
It was as if I could feel things in the dark shadows staring at me.
To me, darkness wasn’t a thing that light could chase away. No matter how much illumination there was, there were always shadows. Always night. Always things that I could feel but not see.
The saloon was dimly lit when we entered. Wooden tables and chairs sat around the room. Some sat away from their tables, like someone had gotten up and not pushed them back in. There were still bottles on the wall behind the bar, but I doubted they had anything in them. They were just for show.
Which was a shame. I could’ve used a stiff drink. As much as I wanted to pretend that ghosts weren’t real, there was no denying the weird vibes some of these old places gave off.
“You doing okay?” Hamish asked as Casper explained some of the saloon’s early history. The gunslingers. The brawls. The thriving prostitution. The sickness that wiped out half the city. The booming industry that brought new people in.
“I’m fine.” Nothing to worry about except the lack of proper lighting and the increasingly creepy-crawly feeling that I got as the night wore on.
I wasn’t afraid of the dark because I couldn’t see things.
I was afraid of it because I could feel things.
It wasn’t the absence of light that bothered me so much as the presence of something.
It was like there was a veil and part of it had been lifted, but only I could tell.
To most people, the dark was just dark. It might unnerve them, but they were able to brush it off or ignore it entirely.
Hamish slid his arm around me, and I tucked myself against his side, cursing myself for relying on him.
First of all, he was a stranger. A hot stranger, but still a stranger.
What must he think of me? Second of all, I was supposed to be using this tour to get over my fear, but so far all it had done was make me want to go home and turn every light in my house on.
“Upstairs is where most of the hauntings happen,” Casper said as they climbed the stairs, their dark hair trailing down their back in a long braid.
When they turned, they looked right at me.
Through me. Into me. “Most people report feeling cold. Or hearing screams. Door slamming out of nowhere for no reason. Doors randomly locking and unlocking, trapping people inside rooms temporarily. Some people see women, half dressed with hollow eyes.”
Hamish tightened his grip on me, and I realized it was because I’d swayed on my feet a little. “We don’t have to go upstairs,” he assured me. “We can stay down here.”
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”
“You look, forgive the expression, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I kept my gaze on the group as they followed Casper up the stairs of the saloon. It was darker up there, but not so dark that I couldn’t force myself to follow.
“No, I can do it. I want to.” I turned to Hamish and his look of concern made my heart swoon a little. He was patient and sweet and kind. His lack of judgement toward me made me feel safe and comfortable in his company.
Surprising him, and myself, I dusted a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you, though.”
Hamish’s cheeks flushed pink, but just for a second. He smiled at me, a bright one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. It managed to chase away more of that unsettled feeling that had enveloped me since stepping into the courthouse.
I was beginning to doubt that I would get over my fear of the dark tonight, but even if I didn’t lose that, maybe I stood to gain something that made it worth the torment I was putting myself through.
“Come on,” I said to Hamish, urging him to follow me as I started up the stairs after the group. “I’d rather not get left behind.”